Falcon knew what that meant, of course, and even if he didn't, the fist rapidly approaching his face would have give him a clue. With so little room to maneuver, he ate the hit, still trying to throw the clone off him. He managed to kick up, hoping to nail Blood right in the stomach.
The collar was off--he'd expected that, and come armed and in combat gear, evidenced by the thunk of his helmet smacking into the elevator floor. If he could get Blood off him, he could get to his gun.
He didn't wait for the maneuver to work, throwing all his weight into an attempt at a roll.
no subject
The collar was off--he'd expected that, and come armed and in combat gear, evidenced by the thunk of his helmet smacking into the elevator floor. If he could get Blood off him, he could get to his gun.
He didn't wait for the maneuver to work, throwing all his weight into an attempt at a roll.